


Faith and Truth

by GillyTweed



Category: Clear Skies (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Philosophy, identity crisis, spoilers for episode 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:40:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GillyTweed/pseuds/GillyTweed
Summary: Captain Sull is an observant individual, so when they know their Commander is distressed, they go to find her at the first opportunity.
Relationships: Azeri Sull & EXEO
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	Faith and Truth

**Author's Note:**

> My only goals are to snipe people in the feels at long range and to make myself cry while I do it.

The Captain finds her in her quarters, pacing back and forth, or rather blipping between a spot near her computer terminal and the large window that looks out into space. If she had to choose a word, she’d call the constant blipping calming. The constant, repeated calculation of movement between two points as she deconstructed and reconstructed her body from the most minuscule units of hard light. She used it to occupy some of her processing power to slow the flow of calculated possibilities her programming was conjuring. 

As usual, the Captain is respectful of her space, they're respectful of everyone's space really, always knocking and waiting patiently for permission to enter. When the door slides open, they step in, blinking in a mixture of surprise and confusion as she continues to blip at regular intervals. 

They wait for several minutes, again ever patient, feeling out who should speak first. When it becomes clear that EXEO wasn’t going to be the first to break the silence, they tilted their head slightly in that inquisitive way of theirs and spoke. 

“Commander, may I ask what’s troubling you?” Their voice is quiet, calm and collected, but holds a genuine layer of concern that soaks into every word. “Did something happen while you were on planet?”

EXEO takes a moment, a fraction of a second for anyone else, to readjust her cycled program to blip a foot and seven inches from her Captain, then ends the sequence. She opens her mouth to speak then pauses. What does she say? How does she explain that she’s questioning everything about herself? About her creation, choices and motivations? Was everything she had been so certain of as fact been a lie?

And thus she tells them everything. Her Captain, Azeri, had been a constant beacon of assurance through their voyage through the stars together. They were someone she trusted implicitly, a friend, and a relationship she had built on her own. If she couldn’t tell them her worries, then she was truly alone in the universe. 

“EXEO,” They said her name with such emotion, such care, once she was finished. They take half a step forward and pause. “Permission to be informal, Commander?”

EXEO lets out a soft, involuntary laugh; a string of code appearing and processing faster than even she can comprehend. “Granted, Captain.” It’s just like them to establish boundaries, even during an emotionally charged situation. 

They continue forward and gently wrap her in a hug. Slow enough that she could easily stop them should she care to decline the contact, but instead she leans into it, pressing her face into the rough fabric of their uniform. 

Their hand comes up and cradles the back of her head, her programming detecting the pressure, and the numbers could only be described, regardless of the language used, as gentle. She feels the soft rise and fall of their chest, subconsciously noting the rhythm of their breath. 

Two in. Three out. 

As they settle into the hug, she picks up more data. The way her units of hard light shift and recalculate to interact organically to the varying degrees of pressure from different angles. The heat that radiates through their clothes and progressively disperses as it fights for equilibrium with the coolness of the room. 

“EXEO,” Azeri starts. “What you’re feeling right now is doubt. You are questioning your choices, facing uncertainty, and reacting in a way that is informed by your past experience and current knowledge.” They pull away slightly so they can look down at her. She doesn’t look up, instead pushing her face just a little bit harder into their shoulder, calming at the new influx of data. 

“And as someone who is alive, and has years of experience being as such, I can say with confidence that someone who is alive would be reacting in the exact same way you are.” They hug just a little bit tighter. “Regardless of how you were created, or the influences of your creators, you are alive and able to make your own choices based on your own wants and desires.” They hunch over slightly, and lower their voice to a whisper. “You are alive, EXEO.”

EXEO feels her hard light image flicker for a moment, shuddering as her ability to process is slightly overwhelmed. For a moment, she thinks she might lose tangibility and fall right through Azeri, but she latches onto the data around her. The numbers that represent Azeri’s warmth, pressure, and presence. 

She mulls over their words, different facets of her programming analysing the structure, tone and inflection. They said it with such conviction, care and faith, that it is difficult not to simply file it all away as fact, because sometimes there is a fine line between belief and truth. But one thing they said lights up, her analysis program shoving it to the forefront of her awareness.

She can make a choice.

She can choose to believe in the absence of data, of proof and answers, that she is alive, and in doing so, further provide proof to Azeri’s argument. 

She is alive. She can make choices. She can choose to believe she is alive. 

She chooses to believe she’s alive. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Twitter @GillyTweed.


End file.
